Breakfast - Poolside - in January!

This morning it was just too nice outside to eat breakfast inside! Fifty degrees, sitting in the sun, felt more like 70-75, so out I went with my breakfast tray. I wasn't the least bit chilly in just shirt sleeves (well, plus the other necessary attire). In fact, by the time I finished my breakfast, I was getting downright too warm in long sleeves. If I had stayed out there much longer, I would have needed to change into cooler clothing. Ahhhhh, bring on summertime!

Oh, by the way, regarding the yellow Corvette shown at the top of my blog . . .
No, we have not suddenly gone hog wild on a spending spree, because of the sale of our house in Oregon. We happened upon this fine speciman at a car show when we went to the Texas State Fair last summer. One can dream big, right?

Time has passed since posting the above. Now it's 4:50 P.M. and I've just come inside after sitting outside again--for the third time today! When I ate my lunch out there it was between 65 and 70 degrees of wonderful sunshine and deep blue sky. (By then I had changed into cooler clothes and discarded my shoes.) Trying to read while I ate was almost impossible because I couldn't keep my head in my book! I kept looking around at the sky, enjoying the warmth of the day, and thinking, "This can't be winter--the end of January!" Later in the afternoon the temperature had climbed to 73 degrees, so I grabbed my book and went out for one more healthy helping of sunshine. With just the barest whisper of a breeze caressing my toes, bright, warm sunshine, and beautiful blue skies, I was magically transported into the most ideal summer day you could ever imagine. Then my cell phone rang.

How quickly I was brought back to reality when the caller gave me the news that a dear friend had just died. She was one of my favorite residents at the assisted living facility where I work--the first of those I know well and think of as my chosen friends. This is the only hard part of working in a place such as this. I know I will continually say a sad goodbye to one after another. It's all part of the "job" that I have chosen--or that God has chosen for me. His joy is my strength.